


Clarity

by Inquisitorkira



Series: Tempest [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Drunkenness, Elvish, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, rape mention, referenced character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3622242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inquisitorkira/pseuds/Inquisitorkira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inquisitor Levallen develops a nasty headache. Dorian finds a way to remedy it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarity

Ar’din nuvenin na’din.  
I did not wish to kill you. Weeks after the incident with the Keeper, the elven phrase still made a home in the forefront of Armet’s mind. Hewen was wrong. It was not cowardice that had driven Armet out of the cave as Cassandra sliced his throat. It was the bond they had formed so many years ago that still kept Armet tethered to the traitor. Harellan- betrayer. Hewen was worse than the Dread Wolf himself, raping many of the young women and men from their clan, then trying to control their minds and bodies with blood magic.  
Then why was it that Armet felt like a harellan? He owed Hewen nothing, not even his pity. It was because in all his wrongs, Hewen had been right about that one thing: There was something special between them and though it had been tainted, the memories they had shared were raw and real and beautiful. Creators, oh how he had not wanted to kill the man. Armet’s whole body ached. He raised a hand to his temple. Solas looked up from the papers they were discussing with a worried frown.  
“Lavellan, are you alright? You look ill.”  
“I’m fine, ma serannas falon. It’s just a headache.”  
Solas pursed his lips, unconvinced. “It seems you have been having episodes such as this quiet often since your trip to the Dales.”  
“It’s probably a side effect of the anchor.”  
“I suppose that is possible.”  
Armet suddenly felt as if his skull would fly out of his skin. His teeth grinded together from the pain. “Era seranna-ma, ir abelas, can we continue these studies tomorrow?”  
“*Ma nuvenin, Lavellan,” Replied Solas with a polite nod of his head.  
“ma serranas.” He thanked the other elf with a nod of his own, before rushing out the rotunda and towards his quarters.  
Dorian was there when he arrived, feet propped up on Armet’s desk as he leafed through a loosely bound manuscript. When he saw the elf, he swung his feet back to the ground and stood, a grin apparent under the well groomed mustache. “Ah, Amatus, I was not expecting you for quite some time! Tell me, what do you think about- goodness, are you alright? You look positively green! Apart from the usual glowing hand, I mean.”  
Armet tried to crack a smile, but it sent a jolt of pain through his temple. He sucked in a labored breath and steadied himself on the desk. “I’m fine, it’s only a headache.”  
Dorian frowned. “You have been getting those since-“  
“The Dales. I know.”  
The Tevinter Mage stepped out from behind the desk, and reached up to hold Armet’s head between his hands so he could get a good look at him. “Dorian…” Armet warned, after a good minute of bending down uncomfortably.  
“Aha! I know just the thing you need!”  
“If it involves the bed, I’m not exactly in the mood for-“  
Dorian laughed a full heartwarming sound. “No, not that. At least, not for this ailment… Follow me, would you?” The face he gave was so earnest that Armet had no choice but to humor him.  
“Oh alright.”  
“Excellent.” He had to stand on his toes just to kiss the taller man on the cheek. “Come along!”  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
When they arrived at the tavern, it was full of boisterous laughter, and the smell of ale- two of Dorian’s favorite things. The human looked up at Armet with a toothy grin. The elf frowned. “I’m sorry Dorian, but I really don’t see how being in the loud, smelly tavern will solve my headache problem.”  
“Then you underestimate my abilities far more than I ever realized. Besides,” He smirked as he pulled a chair out from a table in the corner for Armet before sitting beside him, “It is not the room that will cure you, but rather the activity in which we are going to partake in.”  
“Drinking?”  
“Precisely. You’re far more clever than most people give you credit for, you know.” know.” But Armet seemed to not even hear the comment as he gazed strangley at his own lean fingers. “Oh no, have I finally managed to offend you? It was only a matter of time.” At that, the elf finally cracked a smile, but Dorian’s concern grew. He most definitely had not been himself since the incident with his clan and that abomination Hewen.  
“No, of course not… It’s just that… I don’t drink.”  
Dorian gasped with a generous allotment of melodrama. “Don’t drink? Why I’ve never heard of such an atrocity!”  
“It isn’t like I’m opposed to the idea,” He defended, “I just- never have.”  
“That’s not a Dalish custom, is it?”  
“Oh, creators no. Plenty of my clan drank- Hewen used to down a bottle of ale before bed every night-“ both men frowned uncomfortably at the mention of the late elf, “I just… didn’t. Magic was the only thing that ever really held my interest.”  
“Well there’s never a bad time to start, my dear.”  
“Should you be drinking? You know with your history and everything?”  
“Nonsense!” Dorian banged a fist on the table. “I’m hardly my best when I’m sober! Besides, this is about your drunkenness, not mine.” He hurried and flagged down the barmaid before the pasty elf could object. “Two of your finest ales!” He ordered. “And do make it quick.”  
The woman – oh what was her name again? Lisha? Lorna? – giggled and curtsied with an elaborate reply of, “But of course, Master Pavus.”  
Dorian winked at her before turning back to Armet, who was looking at him with narrowed eyes and a slender grin. “Did you just wink at that barmaid?”  
“What, there’s hardly any harm in flirting! Especially if doing so gets you free ale at the local Tavern.” He winked at Armet to punctuate his point. “Besides; half of skyhold knows I’ll be going to bed with you tonight.” The drinks arrived then, and Dorian gave the barmaid a devilish smile before pushing the ale towards his lover. “Well go on then. I must admit, I am positively curious as to what sort of drunk you are.” He eyed the other man intently as he grasped the mug with a pensive grip.  
It wasn’t all for his own amusement he had concocted this plan. He had experience with the type of pain Armet had described to him. He theorized that the aches were caused by the stress he was under from the situation in the Dales and that the pain was being elevated by the anchor. Still, pain was pain. And any pain was best dulled with a bit of mead. Or maybe a lot. Dorian had to laugh at the way the redhead sniffed his drink before, finally, taking a sip. His nose scrunched up, but he didn’t appear to be terribly repulsed.  
“Well?”  
“It’s a bit… bitter, but not entirely unpleasant.”  
“Aha! He likes it!” Dorian chuckled triumphantly and took a hearty swig from his own mug.  
“I suppose I do, yes.”  
“And the headache?”  
Armet rubbed his temple thoughtfully. “It’s hasn’t quite gone away.”  
“Then what you need is another ale.”  
“But I haven’t yet finished this one-” Dorian ignored him, flagging down the barmaid for two more drinks.

Several mugs of ale later, Dorian found himself leaned back in his chair enjoying the newly reddened complexion of his elf’s face as he ranted. “And then the Keeper’s tunic flew up,” He made an exaggerated wooshing sound as well as a gesture, “in front of everyone and she wasn’t wearing any bloomers!”  
Dorian laughed, perhaps much too loud and took another sip of his ale. “What in Andraste’s name did she say to you after that?”  
“Oh she was cross with me for sure but with Hewen? I thought she would flog him right there in view of the entire clan!” His voice lowered suddenly and his hand movements slowed. “Hewen,” he repeated quietly.  
“The man was an utter bastard,” Dorian blurted before he could stop himself  
“He wasn’t always. He didn’t used to be, really.” A funny smile crossed his face. “He was a lot like you, actually.  
“Like me?” He scoffed, “How absurd! As if anyone, let alone that foul creature, could ever match my wit or my charm or my, my…”  
“Eloquence?”  
Dorian bursted into laughter at that, big belly laughs that shook his whole frame. “I was going to say exquisite good looks but yes, of course there’s that.”  
Armet grew quiet again. He seemed to be in a different world as he pushed around a puddle of ale resting on the table with his finger.  
“Why so quiet? Cat got your tongue?”  
Suddenly the crystal blue eyes were fixed on his, all humor devoid from his tone as he spoke, “How am I any better?”  
“What?”  
“Than Hewen, I mean. I betrayed my clan as readily as he, I’m here with the inquisition, a bunch of shems, and while I was here playing king,” His voice rose with his temper, “They were being chased by bandits and terrorized by a blood mage!”  
“If it wasn’t for you,” Dorian replied carefully, “those bandits and that blood mage would have wiped them all out.”  
“But-“  
“But nothing, Amatus.” Dorian reached for his hand, grasping it tightly. “You may have horrid fashion sense and terrible choice in literature,” Armet snorted at the comment, “But you are one of the best men I have ever known.”  
Tears filled those blue eyes, and he clung to Dorian’s hand like it was the only thing holding him together, “Really?”  
“Really. And whatever Hewen was before he lost his blighted mind, he wasn’t that anymore when we found the Keeper.”  
Armet shook his head. “That’s just it though. There wasn’t a reason, no possession, no red lyrium, not a thing to drive him crazy! And who knows how long he was doing those awful things to- creators, I loved him, Dorian, why did he have to die?” The tears flowed freely now, and Dorian was stunned. In the entire time they had known each other, this man had not once broken so easily. It had been inevitable that his compassion for others would eventually catch up with him, he had a heart to match Andraste herself, but this was almost frightening. The elf was pouring his soul out to him, and all Dorian could think to say in reply was,  
“I don’t know.” He held him as he cried. “I’m sorry, I don’t know.”  
The crowd had filtered out of the Tavern now; it was just the two of them, a few resident drunks, and maybe Sera somewhere in the rafters. So Dorian just let him cry. For a good while, they stayed like that, Armet crying and Dorian holding him, trying to be reassuring. It was uncomfortable at first, but soon it became routine, and eventually, the crying stopped. Armet looked up at the Tevinter Mage, eyes and cheeks red and puffy. “Ma serranas, venahn.”  
Dorian laughed as he moved a think red curl from the elf’s eyes. “I don’t know what that means, Amatus.”  
“’Ma serranas’ means,” He sat up, tryng to gain his composure, “Thank you very much. And Vhenan means… It means ‘my heart’.”  
Dorian felt something swell inside him, and maybe it was the large quantities of ale he had consumed, but he had never felt truly treasured until that moment. He had his own term of endearment for his lover, but it was something he had used in passing on several conditions. This though, this was instilling a piece of yourself in someone else- absolute trust and adoration.  
“’Vhenan’.” Dorian repeated. “You said something of the sort to me after we dealt with Hewen.”  
“Yes I was trying to express my gratitude. It wasn’t easy what you did and I never meant to ask so much of you.”  
“Well someone has to look after you,” He laughed, straightening Armet’s collar. “You can hardly dress yourself without me.”  
“Thank you, truly.” Armet leaned down to kiss him, and Dorian kissed back, hoping that all he felt for the other man would be revealed in it.  
“How’s the headache?” Dorian asked as he stood from the table.  
Armet blinked. “It’s.. It’s gone!”  
“Ha! What did I say! Ale cures everything.” He caught Armet when he stumbled from his chair. “Though it may just be responsible for the new headache you may have in the morning.”  
“That’s quite alright, Vhenan.”  
Dorian smiled and thought to himself, as he helped the dunk elf back to their quarters, that he was the luckiest man alive

**Author's Note:**

> Elvish:  
> Ma Serannas Falon: My thanks, friend  
> *Ma Nuvenin: As you wish  
> Ir abelas: I'm sorry


End file.
